


Kings, Secrets and Lies

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [11]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual, Romance, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:54:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1488856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In my previous story, The Kings and the Rivals, Thorin gets himself into hot water – in more ways than one – down at the hot springs in Mirkwood.  He now has a secret and he’s not telling Thranduil.  So, what actually DID happen between him and Maelon?  And is it a secret that, if revealed, could destroy his relationship with the elven king?  Warning: this is about sexual abuse and non-con.  It’s not the happy, funny story that I usually tell when I write about this pair.  But, I hope my readers will get something from it.</p><p> </p><p>This is the eleventh story in the series which begins with King of the Antlered Throne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dirty, Little Secret

 

.o00o.

 

 Kings, Secrets and Lies

 

Chp I

 

Dirty, Little Secret

 

“I think I need to send a messenger to Beorn, asking for some more honey,” grinned Thranduil as he scraped the last from the jar with his fingers.

 

“Yes,” laughed Thorin.  “I can imagine that the kitchens are wondering why they are running so low.  And I reckon that My Lady Glamel has noticed you filching jars of it from the dining table – she called me honey-throated the other day.”

 

“Well, I suppose she could have been referring to your singing,” was the amused response.  “But I doubt it.  That woman notices everything and then gossips about it.  Does it upset you?”

 

“Only in so far as she has got it the wrong way around.”  And the dwarf reached down to where Thranduil lay between his thighs, applying the honey to his swollen member and, seizing him by the wrist, slowly and sensuously sucked the remains of the sweet stickiness from the elven king’s fingers.

 

Thranduil closed his eyes and groaned.  “Don’t,” he said.  “You’ll make me come before I finish the job in hand.”  And he gently withdrew his fingers from the dwarf’s warm, wet mouth before applying his own lips to Thorin’s rock hard arousal.

 

The dwarf lay back on the pillows and concentrated on the sensations clenching his groin.  “Not so fast,” he panted, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.  Thranduil slowed down and wondered what he enjoyed more: taking or giving pleasure to his lover.  Then, without breaking his rhythm, he reached out and dipped his fingers into the dish of oil by the side of the bed.  Thorin had been strangely morose these past few days and he was doing his best to distract him from whatever it was that was bothering him.

 

Thorin was lost in a voluptuous haze and his hands clenched convulsively in the elf’s silken hair.  Every sensation ran like a powerful current through him and his body writhed and bucked on the feather mattress.  Then he suddenly felt oiled fingers running down his cleft where they paused to probe and penetrate.

 

Thorin was undone.  He was standing in the warm waters of the hot spring once more.  He could hear Maelon’s soft voice whispering filthy things in his ear and he could feel his soapy fingers pressing open his tight entrance – clever fingers that, without hesitation, found that special spot which he rubbed and pressed so effectively that Thorin’s member immediately hardened and sprang erect with a seeming life of its own.

 

He had wanted to pull away but he had been fixed to the spot by sensations so powerful and so primal that he was unable to move until he had spilled his seed violently into the waters of the pool.  At the same time, he had felt Maelon expend himself against his buttocks and he had wrenched himself out of the elf lord’s grasp and, hastily rinsing the cum away, he had climbed from the pool, flung on his clothes and had then fled the scene with Maelon’s laughter echoing in his ears.  “I shan’t tell Thranduil if you don’t,” the elf lord had called after him.

 

Well, that was one small mercy.  The thought of Thranduil finding out about this escapade filled him with dread.  The elf was so possessive that, if he discovered that Thorin had shared himself, however unintentionally, he knew that he would cast him off.  Perhaps.  But he wasn’t prepared to take the chance.

 

As Thranduil’s fingers penetrated him and he remembered the incident at the pool, Thorin exploded in an earth-shattering orgasm.  And he felt total disgust at himself that those memories should have such an effect on him.  The elven king laughed at this successful conclusion to his efforts and then folded Thorin gently in his arms.  “Sleep now,” he murmured softly.  And Thorin closed his eyes in a pretence of sleep which didn’t come for hours because of the shameful secret that he nursed so carefully within him.

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin finally fell into an exhausted sleep in the early hours and was still drowsing when Thranduil left for one of his endless council meetings.  “I’ll try to get back for lunch,” he said as he bent over the dwarf and kissed him on the cheek.  And then he was gone.  Thorin dozed on for an hour or so and then dragged himself out of bed.  He felt dreadful and he shrugged into a casual silken robe.  Most of the morning was spent wandering aimlessly around the apartments and out onto the balcony where he could stare blindly over the forest and think his dark thoughts.

 

At lunch time, Thranduil finally returned and, taking Thorin’s face between his elegant fingers, he kissed him long and hard.  “You look exhausted,” he said.  And he led the dwarf to the bed where he pulled him down beside him and, sliding up his silk robe above his hips, he began to caress his body.  Thorin tried hard to respond to the elf’s kisses but he was feeling very strange.  Thranduil’s face seemed to swim and shimmer before him and he blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his eyesight and his head.  Perhaps he was ill or perhaps just over-tired and worried.

 

The elf was sucking at his pierced nipple through the silk and Thorin laughed and pulled off his robe so that he had full access.  His lover played with the ring for a while, pushing the tip of his tongue through the golden metal and tugging at it with his teeth and then he dipped his fingers in the dish of oil that was still by the side of the bed and, unbuttoning his breeches, applied it to his fiercely erect length.

 

“Take your clothes off,” whispered Thorin.

 

“No time,” was the response.  And he forced himself quickly into the dwarf’s body and roughly brought himself to completion.  Then he got up from the bed and, straightening himself, left Thorin lying, frustrated and unsatisfied, with only a cursory kiss.

 

Needless to say, Thorin was surprised.  Thranduil had always been mindful of his needs.  And, for one horrible moment, he wondered if Maelon had revealed to him details of their encounter in the pool which had resulted in this moment of intercourse being such a cold and punishing one.  He got up stiffly from the bed and went to the bath.  The elf had been so rough that it had hurt and he found that he was sore and bleeding a little.  He washed and put on fresh clothes and then waited anxiously for Thranduil’s return that evening, afraid that there would be some kind of show-down as knowledge of his secret was revealed.

 

But, when he did finally come back from the meeting, all was as usual.  Thranduil was sweetly concerned about the paleness of his features and ordered food to be brought up to their room.  And then he took him to bed and caressed him tenderly.

 

“You’re not angry with me for missing our lunch together, are you?  I just couldn’t get away.”  Thorin stiffened.  “You did get my message, didn’t you?”

 

Thorin’s mind was in such a state of confusion that he suddenly felt sick.  “Yes,” he managed to mutter.  “Don’t worry.”

 

“That’s all right then,” the elf murmured and, tucking the dwarf close into his body, he fell asleep.

 

It was as if he stood at the top of a vertiginous height and, as he looked down from this dizzying summit, the heavy drag of gravity threatened to pull him over the edge and down into darkness.

 

Focus!  Focus! he sternly exhorted himself, or you will be lost.  And he carefully thought through the events of the day.  So, if a messenger hadn’t come, then he must have been intercepted.  And he thought of Thranduil’s shimmering face and the coarseness of his love-making, from the way he had just unbuttoned his breeches to the roughness of his thrusts.  The elf had never hurt him or made him bleed the way he had done today.  And, if his lover hadn’t acted like his lover, then – perhaps he wasn’t his lover.  This demanded a great leap in his thought processes but it was the only answer to this conundrum.

 

He thought back to his childhood and he could hear his grandfather, Thror, speaking dismissively of elves.  “Many have the gift of glamourie.  They can create illusions.  They can make things seem other than they really are.  They can even appear to others not as they are but in a different guise.”  He had not fully understood this at the time – he had just accepted Thror’s judgement that elves were not to be trusted.  Now he realised that this must be the answer to what had happened to him.  And the elf using the power of glamourie to deceive him had to be Maelon.

 

.o00o.

 

Early the next morning, Thranduil woke him and made love to him.  Although he was gentle, Thorin had to try hard to hide from him how painful the penetration was.  And, once the elven king had left the apartments, Thorin sat down and thought hard about what he should do.

 

One option was to do nothing and perhaps Maelon would never approach him again.  The whole affair would be his nasty, little secret and he would have to bear the burden alone.

 

He could call Maelon out, fight a duel with him.  But, there was a good chance that the elf would win and, worse, the whole of Mirkwood would soon find out what it was all about.

 

He could tell Thranduil but then his lover would either cast him off or his jealousy would persuade him that the best solution was to kill Maelon.  But Thranduil might get hurt himself and he couldn’t bear the responsibility for that.

 

In the end, he decided that, until his thoughts had calmed themselves, he would do nothing.  And it was at this moment that there was a knock at the door and he opened it to find Maelon smirking on his threshold.

 

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.

 

.o00o.

 

**So, what does Maelon want and will Thorin be prepared to negotiate with him?  Find out in the next chapter: _Blackmail._**


	2. Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sexually corrupt elf-lord, Maelon, is on Thorin's doorstep, ready to draw the dwarf king even further into a web of lies and deceit. He is an arch-manipulator but can he control Thorin or will the inexperienced Thorin be able to make a stand against him?

Chp II

 

Blackmail

 

Thorin was so shocked by the sudden appearance of Maelon on his doorstep that he silently let him in.  The elf lord poured himself a glass of wine and then looked at the dwarf who was standing there with his features working, as if unsure what to say first.

 

Maelon’s eyes slowly wandered over Thorin in such a way that the king felt his flesh crawl.  “Now, who would have thought,” the elf lord drawled, “that I would be so desperate to fuck a dwarf?  But I am.  And now that I have a taste for it, I am more than keen to do it again.”

 

“It was you – yesterday,” snarled the dwarf.  “Wasn’t it?”

 

“But, my dear, how did you guess?” was the sneering response.  “You’re more intelligent than I thought which means, sadly, I cannot use those means a second time.”

 

“You can employ no means,” said an incandescent Thorin, “that would persuade me to let you lay a single finger on me ever again.”

 

Maelon dangled his glass thoughtfully between finger and thumb.  “So, you think not, do you?  I shall have to see what I can come up with.”  And he gave Thorin an amused look as if he were a child.

 

Suddenly, remembering what Thranduil had said about the elf’s corrupt heart, Thorin took a step away from him across the room.

 

Maelon rolled his eyes.  “Such sweet naivety is truly refreshing – and stimulating – to see,” he murmured.  “I doubt if I shall jump on you and force you, however tempting the prospect.  So crude, you know.  So you needn’t back away.”  Then he gave Thorin a considering glance.  “How old are you?” he asked curiously.  “You cannot have reached your 200th year yet.  I believe I have forgotten what it is to be so young and innocent with a mind so tender and a body so pliant.”

 

He sat down, lounging back in a chair, still twirling his glass but presenting less of a threat so that Thorin relaxed a little.  “What is it you want?” he asked angrily.

 

“Why,” said Maelon, “how remiss of me.  I thought I had made myself clear.  I want you, of course.  It wasn’t until that moment in the pool that I realised what it is about you that has Thranduil so obsessed.”  His eyes raked the dwarf from head to foot.  “Not an elven beauty, of course, but definitely something that appeals to my baser instincts: those heavy muscles, all that hair, that – particularly magnificent asset.  And your nipple ring is especially arousing – I doubt if I could ever persuade an elven lover to mutilate himself in such a way, not even for my pleasure.  No wonder our beloved king can scarcely keep his hands off you.”

 

“Get out,” said Thorin between gritted teeth, “before I kill you.”

 

“Oh, I doubt that you could manage that,” smiled the elf.  “You have seen my skills.  And I was holding back, you know.  I didn’t want to humiliate you entirely.”

 

“You _have_ humiliated me entirely,” snarled Thorin, wondering how much longer he could keep his hands from Maelon’s throat.  “Now go.”  And he walked towards the door.

 

“But, you have yet to hear my proposal,” said the elf lord.  And his voice was so silken soft and threatening that Thorin shivered and his fingers halted before they reached the door handle.

 

“You see, my dear,” murmured Maelon to Thorin’s back, “I have been wondering what Thranduil’s reaction would be if I were to tell him of our little trysts.”

 

“There have been no trysts,” exclaimed Thorin.

 

“I can imagine that he would be very interested in all the details: how you came to me naked in the pool, how much you enjoyed my soapy fingers, how hard and massive was your erection and how vigorously you spilled yourself into the water.  Ahh,” he sighed lasciviously, “I can still hear the cry that escaped your lips at that moment and the pleasure you took as you felt me spurt my own seed upon your buttocks.”

 

Thorin turned towards him, his eyes wide.  “It wasn’t like that,” he cried.

 

“Wasn’t it?” was the leering reply.  “Well, I also remember how yesterday, when you discovered that Thranduil would be held up in a meeting all day – after that message you received – you let me know that you were available.  We fucked for hours, of course.  You must have been really sore and not especially interested in Thranduil when he finally turned up.  I expect he’ll remember that and doubtless wondered why.  Well, now I shall be able to enlighten him.”

 

Thorin stood listening to him, appalled.  “Why would you do this?” he finally asked.

 

Maelon set down his glass and pursed his lips thoughtfully.   “Well, I suppose I’ve never liked our king that much.  His arrogance sets my teeth on edge.  And blackmail is also such a useful bargaining tool.”

 

“Blackmail?” whispered Thorin.

 

“But, of course,” said Maelon, looking up in surprise.  “Surely you’ve realised that this is what it’s all about?”  And, when Thorin could only stare, he continued: “If you choose to do so, you can barter your body for my silence.”

 

The pause was so long that the elf lord wondered if Thorin had heard.  But, finally, the dwarf whispered, “What do you want from me?  What are your terms?”

 

“I want as much as I can get,” said Maelon coldly.  “This means that, when you visit Mirkwood every three weeks, I shall expect some kind of intimacy every day, however brief, and much longer sessions when Thranduil is tied up in one of his meetings, as we both know he often is.”

 

“I need to think about this,” said Thorin quietly.

 

“You have three hours,” replied the elf.  “Come to my room with your answer this afternoon or I shall reveal to Thranduil what has been going on behind his back.  And, then, of course, you will lose him.”  And he gave a triumphant grin as if he knew that he held all the cards.

 

Thorin held open the door with a cornered expression on his face.

 

Maelon paused a moment before him, then slid a hand between his legs and kissed him hotly on the lips.  Thorin wrenched himself away.  “I’m not yours yet,” he hissed.

 

“Not yet, but soon, I believe.”  And with those words, the elf made his exit from the room leaving a sickened and trembling Thorin behind him.

 

.o00o.

 

Thranduil returned briefly for lunch and was concerned enough about Thorin’s appearance to say that he would call a physician if he were no better the following day.  When he was gone, Thorin sat down once more to consider his options.  If he wanted to keep the only one he had ever loved, then he felt he had no choice.  Perhaps Maelon would soon tire of him and then he could put it all behind him and get on with his life.

 

Maelon grinned when he opened the door and he bowed Thorin inside.  “On condition that you say nothing to Thranduil,” the king muttered, “then I am willing to succumb to your wishes.  But, if you so much as whisper anything of the matter to him or anyone else, then I can promise you now that I shall kill you.”  And when Maelon looked into his eyes, he knew that Thorin spoke the truth.

 

The elf lord drew him into his arms and kissed him.  “I shall never tire of you,” he murmured as if he knew what Thorin had been thinking.  “The more I have you, the more I shall want you.  My desires will never be satisfied.”  Then he stood back and gazed at him possessively.  “Now,” he said coldly.  “Just take your clothes off and get into my bed.”

 

.o00o.

 

Two hours later, Thorin returned to Thranduil’s apartments.  His face was grey and drawn and he made straight for the bath where he sat for a long time, trying to scrub himself clean.  But, it occurred to him at one point that he would never feel clean enough for Thranduil ever again.  Eventually, he heaved himself painfully out of the water and dressed himself in a loose robe. Maelon was very rough and he wasn’t quite sure for how long he could come up with excuses to avoid Thranduil’s penetration of his sore body.  For the moment, his supposed illness would have to do.

 

The elven king fussed over him so much after he returned home that Thorin felt very guilty.  He made him go to bed and then went downstairs to the dining hall where he selected delicacies to tempt his lover’s appetite with his own hand.  Then he held him in his arms, stroking and kissing him, whilst he urged him to sleep.  “Tomorrow, I shall call the physician,” he warned sternly.

 

No, Thorin couldn’t let him do that.  If the physician examined him, he might guess that some kind of abuse was taking place.  He must attempt to pull himself together and put on a more cheerful face for the next morning.  And so, when the sun came up, he woke Thranduil with a kiss.  “I’m feeling a lot better today,” he reassured him and the elf was satisfied.

 

Much to Thorin’s relief, Thranduil had no meetings that day and he hoped that this would keep him safe from Maelon’s sexual demands.  Only a few more days, and they would be returning to Erebor.  But, that afternoon, the elven king decided that he would go riding with Legolas and, since Maelon had his spies in the stables, he arrived at Thranduil’s apartments the moment the king had departed.

 

Thorin made a stand.  “I’m too sore,” he said.

 

But Maelon just shrugged.  “On your knees then,” he said pointing to the floor in front of him.  “The faster you do it, the sooner I’ll be gone.”  And he undid his breeches and grabbed Thorin by his hair.

 

.o00o.

 

**Thorin is locked in a horrific cycle of blackmail and abuse.  Is he strong enough to tell Thranduil the truth and face the consequences?  Third and final chapter: _Truth Will Out_.**

 

 


	3. Truth Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there any escape for Thorin? Does he tell the truth and shame the devil that is Maelon, which will possibly result in him losing Thranduil? Or does he keep his secret, carry on with this awful liaison and hope that everything will all work out in the end? I think it's in the chapter title, LOL!

Chp III

 

Truth Will Out

 

Thorin was standing on the balcony when Thranduil got back early that evening.  “Are you coming down to the dining hall?” the elf asked.

 

“No,” said the dwarf quietly, turning around to face him.  “I have something to tell you instead.”  And Thranduil looked into his eyes and his heart grew cold.

 

Thorin knew what he must do.  He had known from that first moment that Maelon had touched him in the pool but had not been brave enough.  His priority had been to keep Thranduil but now he recognised the selfishness of that decision.  How could he kiss the elf and make love to him when he felt so contaminated by Maelon?  He had given in to blackmail and he was dirty; no water could wash him clean.  And so the best thing to do was to confess and then leave for Erebor.  He would be brutal and to the point so that Thranduil would find it easy to give him up.

 

“I have decided,” he said in a toneless voice, “that it is only fair to tell you that Maelon has been fucking me for the past few days.”  Then he waited for the recriminations and the shouting to start.  But Thranduil just stood there with a shocked expression on his face.  In the end, Thorin could bear his stare no longer and with his head bowed in shame he started to brush past the king so that he could make preparations to go that very night.

 

Thranduil’s arm shot out and, for a moment, Thorin thought that he would strike him and he flinched, ready to receive the blow.   But, instead, his lover pulled him into his arms and held him tightly to his breast.  And then he wept.  “Will you ever forgive me?” he said.

 

Thorin raised confused eyes to Thranduil’s tortured face.  “Forgive _you_?” he murmured.

 

The elf covered his face in kisses and held him tighter still.  “Twice I have failed to protect you,” he cried.  “First against Ethril whom I even thrust in your way; and now against Maelon.  I gave you only a casual warning of his corruption, forgetting your innocence in the ways of elves who have lived for thousands of years and have grown subtle in the arts of seduction.  I knew your paths had crossed and yet did nothing to ensure your safety.  And now he has abused you and I am all to blame.”  His anguish was startling but Thorin pulled away from him.

 

“I am not a child,” he said.  “I am old enough to make my own mistakes and bear the responsibility for them.”

 

Thranduil raised a hand to his face and softly touched him.  “But even you, my brave king, would find it almost impossible to resist the arts of one with so black a heart.  I have known for centuries about Maelon and his ways but failed to share that knowledge with you.”

 

Thorin began to shake, overwhelmed by what had happened to him in the last few days and Thranduil gently led him to the bed where he took him in his arms once more.  “Now, tell me,” he said, “from the beginning.”  And Thorin told him everything, not withholding a single, vile detail.  And when Thranduil heard of the glamourie and the blackmail that Maelon had used, he burned white hot in silent rage.

 

And he rose from the bed and fetched Thorin a sleeping draught.  “Take this,” he commanded, “and I shall hold you in my arms until you sleep.  And everything will be well come the morning.”  And the exhausted dwarf took the draught and fell asleep in Thranduil’s arms.

 

Then Thranduil slid quietly from the bed and pulled the coverlet over him.  He went to the armoire in the corner and drew out his sword and then he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

 

When Maelon found the elven king on his doorstep with his sword in hand, he didn’t seem particularly surprised.  “Ah,” he said.  “I thought that you would come for me in the end.  Perhaps I even wished it.”  And they silently cleared a large space in the centre of the room, flung aside their surcoats and kicked off their boots; then Maelon fetched his sword and the duel began.

 

They were very well matched.  Maelon was the best swordsman at Thranduil’s court but its king was thought by many to be the best in all of Middle-earth.  The action favoured first one and then the other until Maelon tried to seize the advantage by taunting the king.

 

“Does Thorin know we are fighting over him?” he asked.  And, when Thranduil didn’t reply, he continued: “Mind you, he’s worth fighting for: possibly the best fuck I’ve ever had.”  The elven king attacked him with renewed fury and it was a few minutes before Maelon gained some control.  “Yes,” he panted.  “Definitely the best fuck – at least since I had you.”  And his words unearthed  Thranduil’s deepest, darkest memories which he thought were long buried, memories from many years past when he had been the young prince of Mirkwood and his father, Oropher, had been king.  Maelon had been rotten, even then.

 

The elf lord’s words pushed him to greater efforts still and a cold desire for revenge.  Suddenly, Maelon’s weapon was spinning from his hand, he was flat on his back and Thranduil’s sword was at his throat.  The elf threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender and waited for the sword to bite.  But Thranduil slowly trailed the blade down his body until the sharp tip rested on Maelon’s genitals.  “With the slightest twist of my wrist,” Thranduil murmured in icy tones, “I could unman you here and thus bring satisfaction to many of us who have been corrupted by your wiles.”

 

Maelon’s eyes widened: whatever he was, he was not a coward and he had been prepared to meet his death; but this would be worse than death and he would live for all eternity in shame.

 

Thranduil paused for a long moment then raised his sword.  “I banish you from Mirkwood,” he said.  “You will be gone by tomorrow morning.”  And he knew that, for an elf to be cast out from his people was the hardest doom of all.  The last he saw of Maelon was the look of horror on his face.

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin awoke the next morning to find Thranduil lying by his side.  “He is gone,” the elf immediately reassured him.  “Into exile.  We shall never see him again.”

 

And then Thorin saw some tell-tale marks upon his lover’s body.  “You have fought him,” he said accusingly.  “For my sake.  You risked your life for me and I’m just not worth it.”

 

“I took revenge both for you and for all Maelon’s other victims – and for myself whom he seduced two thousand years ago.”

 

Thorin’s face contorted.  “If I had known that,” he said harshly, “I would have killed him myself.”

 

Thranduil sighed.  “It’s all over now.  Those of us who should have known better tolerated him for too long.  We were ashamed of what he had done to us, you see, and just wanted to ignore it.”

 

“There is nothing for you to be ashamed of,” Thorin said angrily.  “He cannot defile someone as beautiful as you.”

 

“Nor has he defiled you,” was the gentle response.  “You have to believe that, Thorin.”  And he kissed him long and tenderly.

 

Thorin touched his lover’s face.  “Yes, deep down, I know that to be true.  But,” he whispered, “it is hard convincing myself of this truth.”

 

“I’ll take a hundred years convincing you, if you wish,” replied the elf quietly.  And he pulled Thorin towards him.  Then he ran a hand through the black mane of hair.  “I must have hurt you when we made love,” he said.

 

“You could never hurt me,” Thorin replied and he bent forward to kiss the scratches and bruises on Thranduil’s chest.  “I should have trusted you.  I should have told you but I thought you would leave me.”

 

The elven king took Thorin’s chin firmly in his hand and lifted it so that they gazed into each other’s eyes.  “I shall never leave you,” he said.  “Don’t you understand yet?  Have I not already told you that elves love only once and you are the One.  You are my beloved and it Iies with me to take away your pain.”

 

“No,” replied Thorin slowly, as a realisation of the extent of Maelon’s evil came to him.  “That is my task.  How long have you suffered?  How long have you carried the burden of Maelon’s abuse, seeing him every day, perhaps, and yet pretending that nothing had happened?  Speaking civilly to him?  Disguising from others what had passed between the two of you?  From your father?  From your wife?  From me?  It should have destroyed you but it has not.  That gives me strength and I shall use that strength to succour and comfort you.”  And Thorin wrapped his arms about him, holding him against his breast and stroking his silken hair.  “You are safe now, with me,” he said, “as I with you.   No-one will ever harm us again.”  And, resting in each other’s arms, they slept a deep and golden sleep until the morning came. 

 

.o00o.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, let’s chase these dark clouds away with my final story in this series: The Kings and the Wedding. Yes, at last, Thorin and Thranduil, Young Thorin and Brangwyn are planning their double wedding. But, there are so many hurdles for them all to get over that the big question is, will they actually make it up the aisle?
> 
> If you have enjoyed this story and it's the first you have read, then perhaps you would get some pleasure from working your way through the whole lot, starting with King of the Antlered Throne, which describes how the two lovers first meet. These stories vary in tone from the serious to the humorous as I follow their relationship, but I'm sure there's something for everyone.
> 
>  
> 
> Look out for story number 12: I hope you enjoy this much more pleasurable trip.


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